A Modern Tale
by InkMind
Summary: Brian and Curt parted ways a few years ago, this is what happens in a modern-adapted present.
1. I Like To Pretend

"Well, I suppose you could put it that way," Brian agreed with a soft chuckle, taking another drink of his wine and feeling his mobile vibrating in his pocket. "Excuse me, gentlemen," he excused himself, gently wiping his mouth with the cloth napkin and leaving it on the table as he exited the dining room.

Strange, who could be at such late hours?

Brian frowned slightly when he eyed a missed call from an unknown number, followed by the message that vibrated on his palm.

' _Hey.'_

Unusual. He didn't recall anyone who might have his number whom he hadn't added to the contacts.

' _Who are you?_ ' the British man texted back, putting his mobile back into his pocket. It surely wasn't important enough to interrupt his dinner party.

"Wrong number, I believe," he explained to the host, smiling politely and agreeing to another glass of wine. He took a quick sip, easily joining the conversation when he was interrupted once again. Another text. This time the British man simply took a quick look, reading the bright screen.  
 _  
'Can we talk?'_

Brian frowned yet again, well was this person slow? But the text that he received a few moments after only confused him more.

' _Pick up.'_ And his mobile began to ring. The British man repeated his procedure, apologising and walking into the hallway as he accepted the call. Whoever that was, he was intrigued.

" _Hey_ ," the voice on the other side of the line left Brian dumbfounded. His eyes widening despite himself before fluttering closed: That voice, that accent, that man. No matter how many years had passed, he would never forget the loose, American accent of Curt Wild. He slipped into the nearest room he could find, closing the door behind him.

There was so much that the Glam Rock star wanted to say, so much he had planned and replayed in his mind for this moment. So many scenarios, so many words. But all he could muster was a soft "Hello."

"Are you alone?" Curt asked, lighting another cigarette and throwing himself on the shitty mattress of his shitty apartment. He had money, but he preferred it this way, it was closer to who he was than the life he had been pretending to be part of.

"Not quite," Brian replied, sitting on the small sofa. "Did something happen?" After so many years, why else would Curt call?

" _Not really_ ," the bleached blond replied, taking a quick drag and watching the smoke dancing up the ceiling. " _Just…felt like talking to you."_

Brian nodded, remaining in silence. For some reason, that didn't bother him. In fact, it felt…almost natural under the rush of emotions that were struggling not to burst on the surface. "About what?"

 _"I don't know…what are you up to?"_ Curt asked, watching the cherry burn the paper of his cigarette. God, he had almost forgotten how elegant Brian's voice was. Although… no, he hadn't.

"At the moment?" Brian asked, sucking his lower lip.

" _Yeah._ "

"Well, I'm in the middle of a dinner party," Brian explained.

Curt nodded, taking another quick drag. " _How are you?"_

Brian hesitated. "I can't complain."  
 _  
"No, I mean…how are you, right now?"_

Brian frowned. "I don't understand." Or maybe it was the fact that Curt's voice was already clouding his judgment. It always did.  
 _  
"Literally. Are you sitting down? Standing up? Where?"  
_  
"Why?" Brian couldn't help but ask. What an odd thing to ask.

"… _because I'm always wondering."_

Brian nodded, silently, swallowing softly. "I do as well."

Curt smiled softly, taking another drag. " _So?_ "

Brian chuckled softly. "I am…in what appears to be a library room," the British man explained, looking at his surroundings. "Sitting down on a sofa."

" _Leather?_ "

Brian shook his head. "Linen."

 _"Ah, boring," C_ urt replied, and Brian couldn't help a soft smile tugging the edge of his lips.

"Yourself?"

Curt looked around. _"Just in my flat_ ," he teased Brian's accent, taking a slow drag and letting the smoke escape from his mouth as he spoke. " _Laying down on my bed, smoking_."

"I can hear it," Brian confirmed, closing his eyes. The sizzling sound of the cherry, he could almost smell the tabacco.

Curt nodded. " _So…are you crossing your legs or..._ "

"Does it need to be that specific?" Brian asked with a soft chuckle, feeling strangely amused. Which meant…he was quite comfortable, although still sort of thrilled. But this wasn't a call to discuss the feelings the British man so often attempted to escape, or to discuss the past. It was simply…them.

Curt smiled faintly. _"Yeah, you know me. I'm all about visuals."_

Brian nodded. He knew very well. "Well if you must know, I am sitting down, my left leg is crossed over the right one," he replied softly, his voice lowering instinctively. Apparently his mind believed anything he told this man held some sort of secret. "One hand…resting on my thigh." He sucked his lower lip, looking away. Why did this feel so…

Curt licked his lips, his eyes slowly closing. " _Where, exactly_?"

Brian lowered his voice even more, opening his eyes. "Are you trying to…? I mean-"

 _"Maybe."_

A small shiver crawled up Brian's spine. "Oh."

 _"Tell me where,"_ Curt insisted, vaguely stroking his own chest.

Brian swallowed softly. "Well..."

" _Anywhere near_ _your_ _cock_ _?"_

"Yes," Brian replied softly, a soft gasp on the back of his throat as his fingers approached. The electricity cracking between miles away was simply ridiculous. Mostly due to the fact that Brian knew the blond...far too well. This wasn't a simple attempt of seduction, this was how Curt communicated. Bodily. Physically.

" _Touch it_ ," Curt commanded softly, taking a soft drag and letting his own hand skim down his pants, reaching in. _"Like it's mine."_

"You don't own me anymore," was Brian's instinctive response at a flat out command. It was either that, or blindly comply. He couldn't afford to fall for that spell yet again.

Curt bit down his lip. Fuck. _"I know,"_ he whispered, the water in his eyes staring at a gray ceiling. _"I just like to pretend I don't."_

* * *

 _ **Author's Note: Any feedback is appreciated. Will be rated M if continued. **_


	2. Maybe This Time

Curt bit down his lip. Fuck. _"I know,"_ he whispered. _"I just like to pretend I don't."_

* * *

Pretend. That was quite the fitting word, now wasn't it? Brian and Curt had had their fair share of those. Pretend they cared about money, then pretend they didn't. Pretend they weren't fighting that often, or pretend they did. And as the silent seconds followed Curt's words, they only dug deeper. Perhaps because at the very moment, he was- once again- pretending he didn't care.

Was it truly worth it? Brian's words left his lips before he could catch them.

"Is...everything okay?"

Apparently not.

 _"I have a girlfriend,"_ Curt muttered, wondering if the mere statement punched Brian in the gut just as much as it twisted his.

Brian nodded, swallowing the poison now coating his tongue. "I see." Why on _earth_ would he need to know that?

 _"No, it's just...s_ _ometimes I wish she was you."_ Curt didn't need to fill the details. Brian would know. Brian always knew.

The British man's fingers curled into the cushion. Now? Truly? After all these years? "Curt-"

 _"Shit,"_ the blond interrupted. _"I missed that."_ Jesus, what the fuck. Just the mention of his name and Curt's heart was going a mile a minute, remembering the way those lips pursed. What the hell had happened to the time in between?

And even though Brian had a complete, orderly speech ready for such approach- he forgot it.

"Did you?" he murmured breathing softly. It was inevitable, how genuine the man remained, it never failed to sail through Brian's defences.

 _"Yeah,"_ Curt replied immediately. " _Man_ , _you picked up the phone and all I could think was 'fuck, his voice sounds..._ " He took another drag, exhaling the smoke.

 _"So sweet."_

Christ. Brian clutched the phone in response.

"I've...been dreaming about you," he confessed, closing his eyes to hide the embarrassment. He was convinced that Curt could still see him. "Incessantly."

The blond braced his palm on the mattress, straightening up at the words. _"Me too,"_ he whispered, taking a deep drag. _"Fuck man..."_ he repeated, allowing his head to fall back on his shoulders for a second. _"Me too."_

"Do you think we could...meet, perhaps?" Brian asked, his voice much more eager than he would have wished. It made no bloody sense of top of it, but the Glam Rock Star couldn't be bothered.

Curt let out a startled chuckle, and Brian couldn't help but smile at the fresh, vulnerable sound.

 _"What? Where?"_

"You know where," the British man scolded, in that familiar fashion that pressed his lids together yet again.

Curt nodded- it was Brian's vacation house. Their haven, their secret spot- away from the fucked up world of money and press.

 _"Right now?"_ He'd jump on a plane, he didn't give a fuck.

Brian bit down his lip.

 _"Please,"_ were the last words that the blond heard before the line went dead. And the same passionate, careless fury that had kept them together once again flew Curt's door open only to be fall shut.

* * *

Curt's foot moved impatiently, shifting on his chair, hearing how the leather from his jacket rubbed against the cheap plastic. His clear eyes flickering over to the screen yet again, a third cup of shitty coffee, and another hour left to board.

Jesus, _what the fuck was he doing?_

Had Brian even _meant_ it?

Fuck, what if he had been drunk and Curt just made an ass of himself showing up at an empty house? He had been at a dinner party, right?

Shock, Curt hadn't thought this through. But Brian...Brian had to have. Brian wasn't impulsive, right? He had to mean it. Yes- he meant it. And God, Curt _did_ miss him. He missed him so fucking much.

Enough to move on. He wasn't even angry at Brian anymore, though he was still angry at himself. For all of this. The call, the feelings, for not giving a shit about the fact that he hadn't even left a note for his girlfriend. No, he wasn't angry at that. He was angry at how...weak Brian made him, at how he he'd do just about anything just to see those eyes again. Those bone cheeks, creamy skin, and the lips of a fallen angel.

Was it really over?

All that resentment, all that...shame Brian had inflected on him, was it really gone?

* * *

As Curt made his wheeling way to the check-in, he still wondered.

* * *

 _I don't hate it anymore?_

 _I don't hate how... fucking easily he used to spin my head around, the way his body writhed and twisted and his lips pursed and called my name? The way his nails clawed down my spine. Or that he could turn him stupid with a side eye and a pouty lip._

 _Don't I fucking hate it? That I'm on top, but he's my master. That the game wasn't a fucking game, and it made me lose it all, but it got me higher than H._

 _Yeah. High._

 _High enough that it made me forget, hell, even forgive. That was his trick, every time- that streak of goddamn vulnerability just when it'd work. Like...fuck, like...today._

 _No, that would be...that's just my head, right? That's just the alarm going off: **'Curt, don't be such a fucking idiot, again'** The one that I used to shut off by holding that hot thigh higher up and on my shoulder, fuck him harder, deeper. To make him pay. Even w_ _hen we groaned and growled, sweating in lust, in the fucking need to erase it all and get a clean, new chance._

 _Like this one._

 _And it makes sense it's still there- it's fucking survival. The kind anybody would need when having a beautiful fucker hissing at them every day of the week. When a false god crushed them under a sharp heel just to guard their precious pride._

 _But okay, let's be fair- I might have done my part. I might have told him he a was fake, frigid bitch. May have walked away on him when I promised I wouldn't._

 _So maybe no, maybe I don't hate that power anymore. Maybe I hate more that Brian...felt the need to use it. On me, among all the others, to reach parts that either way only Brian could have reached._

* * *

 _"Would you like anything else, sir?"_ the flight attendant's words swept through Curt's thoughts, and the blond's lips tugged into the softest smile as he shook his head to watch her walk away. The sea mirroring in his eyes when turning back to look through the window.

* * *

Maybe this time, he actually did.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** _Glad to know you enjoyed the modern element of it, I think it'll be fun to play with it in the future. This is a chapter I put together with little scenes I had for them, as I've been writing them for a long time, but never really built a solid plot with it until now. Let me know if you're into it, there's many scenes to come once they meet again and I'm thinking of making a 'Choose Your Own Adventure' sort of story, in which I'll give you options and you'll tell me where you want to see the story go. Let me know about that, either way, any feedback is appreciated._


End file.
